


Under the Moon

by 2Femme



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Demon!Hanzo, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 10:26:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15046871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2Femme/pseuds/2Femme
Summary: The last time he saw a moon like that was back home, in the starlit streets of Sante Fe. Back when his life was still his and Deadlock was just a name he saw in the town newspapers that his Ma used to paste across the windows when she went off her meds.





	Under the Moon

The last time he saw a moon like that was back home, in the starlit streets of Sante Fe. Back when his life was still his and Deadlock was just a name he saw in the town newspapers that his Ma used to paste across the windows when she went off her meds.

 

Too bad he would be dead soon, or else he might have enjoyed the view. 

 

\--

 

Bleary eyes opened to the moon. Still shining above him, uncaring that he was dying on its watch. To be fair, McCree was sure that there wouldn’t be a whole lot of people who would care if he did die; and a whole lot more who would be fuckin’ thrilled about him finally kicking the bucket.

 

He tried to reason how long he had been passed out. Judging by the burning warmth of his skin, and the smell of stale blood he reckoned a whole day had passed, the sun showing him no mercy as he bled out in the dirt. 

 

He wondered if the moon was as surprised to see him alive as he was to be.  

 

He tried to unstick his mouth, cracked and blistered from the heat. The skin peeled, and the sickenly sweet metallic tang of fresh blood mixed with the worst morning breath he's ever had in his goddamn life. It was enough to churn his stomach, and he rolled over, hands braci- Hand. He only had one now. McCree pitched forward, yelling out as his stump crashed into the ground. Vomit exploded out the back of his throat and he coughed, body heaving as he tried to sit himself up, one arm short.

 

His body shook, and fresh tears left salty trails down his face as he looked up at the moon. He wasn’t above begging. “Please,” he called out. 

  
Please what? Would he beg for death now? After spending his whole life running from it? 

 

Chest heaving he looked down to the fresh splatter of blood. Stark red, in contrast to the dark stain that surrounded him. How has he not bled to death yet?    
  
“Please,” He said again, whimpering. He was light headed and delirious. It was the only explanation for what happened next.

  
A pair of eyes opened in the dried pool of blood. They stared at him, and his own eyes stared back, bloodshot and bugged out. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, and he watched, horrified as a face started to emerge. Followed by a  _ whole fuckin’ person _ ?  

 

The white shone against the black of the blood. 

 

“Are you here to kill me?” He asked. 

 

“You… are already dead.” 

\--

 

Time seemed to drag on, and speed up all at once. McCree couldn’t quite tell you how a month had come to pass - but between interrogations, medical examinations, and drinking himself into a stupor most nights he found himself once again looking at a full moon. 

 

He was drunk again. As if the alcohol would lift the weight of his new ‘arm’ from his shoulders. “This is your fault.” He grumbled. 

 

\--

 

_ “I’m not dead!” Jesse cried, alarmed.  _

 

_ The figure smirked, amused with himself.  “No… you are not. But you will be, soon.” _

 

_“You’ve got a sick sense of humor, partner,” he growled out. He hated being on his knees in front of this… whatever this_ thing _was. It - uh_ he _?-_ _looked like a man. He was wearing a white robe that gave off the same glow as the moonlight. In any other circumstance Jesse would say he was handsome: the long dark hair, the sharp jaw, cheekbones that could cut glass. But his eyes, they were black. Not_ just _black. Black like the dried blood he was kneeling in. Black like hell would be. Black that was burning. It left him feeling unsettled._

 

_ “Maybe so,” he spoke. “It has been awhile since I have spoken with someone else.” _

 

_ Jesse grasped at his arm _ _ —or  _ _ where his arm should have been. “So… you supposed to be death or somethin’?” he asked, grimacing as he tried to stand, only to stumble back to his knees.  _

 

_ “Or something,” he agreed, as he floated around behind McCree. “You may call me Hanzo.” _

 

Hanzo _ , McCree mused.  _ Pretty normal name for a fuckin’ demon _. He let out a dry laugh, that turned into a groan. “Well then  _ Hanzo,”  _ Jesse groused, _ “ _ unless yer gonna help a fella out, why don’t you leave me alone.” _

 

_ Hanzo’s eyes lit up at that. He bent down to pick something off the ground, listening as Jesse’s breathing quickened and became more labored. “Cause yanno,” McCree continued, gasping between words. “Not dying takes quite a bit of effort, and I don’t exactly have the energy to spare for you.” _

 

_ “Consider it done.” McCree looked up to ask what he meant, and saw that Hanzo has moved back to stand in front of him...and that he was  _ holding his fucking arm _. He doubled over again and heaved.  _

 

_ He woke up three days later in the med bay, fit as a fiddle - except his missing arm. “ _ What the fuck!? _ ”  _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ “ _ You asked for my help.” 

 

McCree would deny it to his last breath, but he yelped. He spun around to see the white robed demon staring him down, floating from a few feet away. 

 

“Did not,” he slurred smartly, feeling angry and petulant. Until now, he had convinced himself that Hanzo had been a fever dream. A mirage from the heat. A goddamn stroke. But to see him here again meant he had to acknowledge that maybe his demons were a bit more literal than he’d like to admit. 

 

“You did not wish to die. I saved you,” Hanzo insisted, as if he was trying to convince himself of it.   

 

“Not all of me!” Jesse roared, turning away from Hanzo.

 

Jesse couldn’t see the hurt look on Hanzo’s face as he disappeared, but when he looked up to the moon he couldn’t shake the feeling that it looked rather dejected.


End file.
